Distance
by Goonlalagoon
Summary: Over the course of their marriage, King Limelyin and Queen Chaterouse have drifted apart - a little look at why, from Limelyin's perspective.


**Written a little while ago, now. In one of the later books, we're told that Limelyin and Chaterouse don't seem to be a close couple, but initially, Limelyin is devoted to her. So, my attempt to shed a little light on the details of their growth apart.  
Reviews would be lovely :)  
None of the characters etc. belong to me**

* * *

King Limelyin watched his wife and daughter clamber out of a carriage, both clearly angry with the other. Chaterouse stalked away towards the castle, while Emma glared after her. He sighed and shook his head, knowing that he would either not hear about the disagreement at all or be subject to a long rant about it. There would be no discussion, no wondering what went wrong, no opinion. Just him, listening to his wife.

He did love her, still. And he had always known that her affection for him was somewhat less. He had been just one of many suitors, and most certainly not one of the best choices. But she had liked him well enough. Most of her love, though, had stemmed from his own loyalty; that he had stood by her side because he wanted her as his wife, rather than having courted her as the future Green Witch. Over the years, even that had faded. His own had diminished a little too, faced with the constant sniping she kept up against her sister, and later her own daughter. That Chaterouse loved Emma, he did not doubt.  
That she was terrible at showing it, gave the impression that Emerelda had never been anything than a disgrace and a burden, and that she single handedly drove a wedge the width of the kingdom between them without even realising it, he was absolutely certain.

A few times he had brought it up, when the Queen paused for breath in her ranting about her daughter's preference for 'my dratted sister' than her own mother, rants full of self-pity and laying blame everywhere except where Limelyn felt it was most deserved. But even brave and loyal kings do not like having their heads bitten off by their angry wives, and he had soon learnt that Emma's clear preference for her aunt's company could be attributed to nothing other than dismissal of the 'hard and dreary' work of Queen compared to 'excitement and silliness' of the Green Witch within his wife's hearing. Many years ago she had firmly banned him, and all others in the castle, from referring to her one-time certainty that she would be the next Green Witch. Her hatred of magic had begun on the day her sister returned and could work spells she had made up with no teaching or training, and none of the determined fuss of 'feeling special' or 'big day' that Chaterouse had told herself was always just around the corner. It had grown over the years, as she felt again and again how the respect for the Green Witch at best equalled, at worst exceeded, that for the woman who was_ merely_ Queen. She saw Grassina use magic to cook, and sniffed about laziness (despite frequent attempts herself when younger). She saw a broom sweeping by itself in her daughter's room, and snarled about using magic for everything (when she had once dreamt of doing the same, and declared freely that when she was the Green Witch, she'd snap her fingers and all the chores would be done). She saw that it was useful, and necessary to the defence of the kingdom, but couldn't bear to see her daughter try (and complained endlessly with just a tinge of jealousy when her instructions were ignored and Emma made spells work – sort of).

Limelyn had always quietly supported his daughter's choice. He kept his promise to his wife, never telling their only child that once upon a time, her mother had been so certain she was a witch as well as the future queen that she declared her sister a waste of space – frequently.

As he heard his wife storming up the stairs, Limelyn sighed once more. She had never loved him quite as he had loved her, but the distance between them had begun even in the early days of their marriage – when he made the mistake of pointing out why her sister had fled the castle one day unexplained. Chaterouse chose to say that Grassina had run away, leaving her poor sister terrified that she was dead, and what's more, had run away so that she didn't have to do any work.

Limelyn begged to differ, having stayed up on the night of their father's death in case either his beloved or her kind-hearted sister had been unable to rest and needed someone to talk to. He had heard sobbing, and rushed out of his room to find and comfort whichever sister it was, feeling that it was the least he could do. Instead, Chaterouse had been wailing and ranting about her sister's dark plots to kill her, how she was surrounded by family who hated her, and how she wouldn't be surprised if Grassina had been the cause of their father's death, determined to eliminate the rest of the family so that she could be the important one. Though he had loved her still, some of his respect for the beautiful young princess had diminished in that moment. Only a little, for she was clearly terrified, and she had been badly shaken by the loss of her father. In truth, if she had kept to that belief when her sister returned he would perhaps have respected her more, even as he thought her deluded. It was the switching, with no new events or evidence, the selective memory that allowed her to take one story and replace another, so convincingly that she believed her own tale.

Over time his respect and affection had diminished further in the face of how little sympathy she showed for Grassina and Haywood. Even now, when the man had been returned to human form for some time, Chaterouse was civil at most, and usually downright rude. Though she had never said as much, Limelyn had understood almost immediately why she responded with something akin to glee when Haywood disappeared within seconds of meeting Olivene, and all of Grassina's efforts to find him again were futile. Losing not only the dream of becoming the Green Witch, but also all but one of her previously devoted suitors to her little sister had cut Chaterouse's pride deeply. For Grassina to look at all of the princes with clear disdain, and declare that she had found love already, had been salt in the wound. For Grassina there would be no deception; no belief that she was a wonderful person with many handsome young nobles all utterly besotted with her when in truth it was her title and power they desired. To see the young men she herself had dithered between being instantly cast aside as clearly unworthy, to hear them instantly move on to new goals, discussing other potential brides without a moment's thought – showing all too clearly that they had all had back up plans, if they failed to take first prize – had forced the young princess to see how entirely deluded she had been, and how ignorant.  
This he could have understood.  
It was the repeated insistence to Grassina that she should forget the missing Haywood and marry one of the noble suitors who still came to the palace that Limelyn despised. He understood how Grassina felt; he was positive that if Chaterouse was banished by some magic, he would spend the rest of his days searching for her. Eventually, he himself had called Grassina from her quest, reminding her that she was the Green Witch, with a duty to fulfil. Chaterouse had sniffed when her sister bowed her head in agreement and sorrow mixed, and muttered that 'it's about time you did something useful'.

Limelyn suspected he had only just been able to prevent his wife from some unfortunate happening at the hands of her sister.

The door slammed open, and he turned to face his wife. She looked a little embarrassed to have been caught acting in a childish fashion. She would never normally have dreamed of slamming doors. She was breathing heavily, anger causing her cheeks to flush. Limelyn straightened his back, taking a deep breath himself.

"I don't care what it is, my dear." She blinked, surprised. "You and Emma have been arguing again, and I would be quite prepared to bet that you started it. I am not interested in hearing what you think Emma did this time, or why she is to blame." She seemed about to object, but he cut across and the sheer novelty made her fall silent. "But I would ask that you stop ceaselessly antagonising the Green Witch. She has a job to do, and she does it well. It is not her fault that you do not have magic, or that she now has the role you wished was yours. And it is not her fault that she could hardly stand to spend more than a minute in your company until she took on the title that forced you to show her some semblance of courtesy."  
He strode past her, trying to ignore the stricken expression on her face. It was not until he was partway down the stairs that he heard the door click as it was closed, and he paused, allowing himself a moment of sorrow. Somehow, that quiet click echoed in his mind, perhaps because he suspected – knew – that it wasn't just the door closing; it was also his wife quietly shutting him out for good.

Because for all her virtues, Queen Chaterouse could not bear to have her web of lies torn.


End file.
